


Cookies and Shakira

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cookies, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Insomnia, Platonic Heith, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 19:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12087750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Keith, in his defense, wasn't used to living with other people - and Hunk, in his defense, wasn't used to Keith. Some late night fluff and silliness.





	Cookies and Shakira

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mikiri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikiri/gifts).



 

Keith, in his defense, wasn’t used to living with other people. He’d been living on his own since he was sixteen, albeit in basement apartments and sublets and shacks in the middle of nowhere.

The point being, there wasn’t anything wrong with being up in the middle of the night. There certainly wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about putting in his headphones, turning up the music and sitting on the floor in front of the fridge to snack on his leftover pulled pork. It was tasty, and he was finishing it off anyway – who needed a fork?

And there certainly wasn’t anything wrong with taking a drink of Pepsi, and singing along to Shakira. It was _good_ music.

However, the look on Hunk’s face – lingering somewhere between amusement, horror and pure shock – was giving Keith the lingering impression that he had crossed _some_ sort of invisible line. It wasn’t the first time. He treated most of them more like suggestions.

Still, he had to _live_ with the guy.

Keith put the pulled pork back into the fridge as elegantly as possible, got to his feet with the Pepsi swinging between his knuckles, and yanked out one of his earphones. “…Hi. Isn’t it late to be up?”

Hunk spluttered. “I – you -“ He threw up his hands with a scoff, but Keith could see the smile spreading across his face. “I don’t know whether to be more annoyed that you’re eating _pork_ with your _hands,_ or that you apparently have a good voice.”

“…I can have a worse one if you want.”

“Not the point.” Hunk smacked his forehead, then wiggled his hands. “By all means continue.” He grabbed a cup and poured himself a cup of water – and Keith noticed with slight surprise that his hands were shaking.

He wrapped his fingers around the cup, steadying it. “Sit down.”

Hunk was about to say something, then sighed and did so. “Okay.” Beat. “Shakira? Really?”

Keith nodded, then pressed the other bud to Hunk’s ear, restarting the song as he offered the cup to his roommate. Hunk drank it down thirstily, then as his nerves began to relax, started wiggling in the chair. “…I forgot how good this song was.”

“I know, right?”

“Is there any pulled pork left?”

Keith pulled a face. “…A little?”

“Dammit, Keith.”

“Want to make cookies?” Keith offered, and the smile that spread across Hunk’s face was worth it.

“What kind of question is that? I _always_ want to make cookies.” Hunk was about to move – then paused. “Finishing the song first.” He glanced down at Keith’s hands. “Are you doing the disco thing.”

Keith sat on his hands. “No. I don’t dance.”

“Uh huh. And I suppose you don’t sit on the floor eating leftovers and singing Shakira either.”

“Of course not. You’re seeing things.”

“ _Uh huh._ ”

It was a wonder they didn’t wake up Lance or Pidge, or burn the cookies. But Keith’s favourite part of the night was when, somewhere around 6 in the morning, Hunk collapsed into a chair with a laugh, rubbing his eyes and staring at the array of cookies that were now cooling on their wire racks.

“…Do you do this, like, a lot?” Hunk asked, voice a little quieter than before.

“Make cookies?”

“No, I mean – stay up all night.”

Keith shrugged. “I don’t sleep much.” He figured it wasn’t worth going into the details – how he’d stare at his ceiling for hours on end, how he’d give himself panic attacks _trying_ to sleep, how sometimes he’d be so tired he wanted to cry and still not be able to – It was just easier not to.

Hunk dusted some of the flour off onto his pant legs, sighing. “I, uh – well – when I came downstairs, I –“ he shrugged and laughed a little. “I had a bad dream. And I thought everybody was going to be asleep.”

“You wanted to be alone?”

Hunk shook his head. “I wanted company. Just – didn’t want to wake anybody up. Lance is grouchy when you wake him up. And I’m not used to bad dreams.”

“It doesn’t really get any easier.”

Hunk paused. “You’d think that wouldn’t help, but it kind of does. I don’t want to get used to them.” Then he grinned, smile lighting up his face. “You singing Disney soundtracks, though? _That_ I can get used to.”

“I know this probably goes without saying, but if you tell anybody, I _will_ shank you.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t tell anybody. I’ll just record you singing ‘The Bare Necessities’ and put it on Youtube.”

Keith glared at Hunk. Hunk blinked innocently. If somebody could be the living embodiment of the ‘:3’ face, Keith considered, Hunk was it. Damn his hide. “…Fine. I get the ad revenue.”

“Deal!” He yawned, then stole a cookie from the rack, popping it into his mouth. “Okay, I’m gonna catch some Z’s before dawn.”

“It _is_ dawn,” Keith commented wryly.

“Whatever.” He dug his hands into his pocket. “…Thanks,” he said shyly.

The invisible lines around physical contact, just like everything else, were something Keith had never really understood. He mostly understood it as ‘people didn’t touch him unless _he_ said they could, and he just didn’t bother most of the time’. But Hunk – Hunk liked touching people. He knew that.

So he wrapped his arms around Hunk in a hug, and when Hunk hugged him back, he found he didn’t mind so much. And when Hunk trod up the stairs, he could hear him whistling ‘Try Everything’, all the way up.

It was a good night - except Hunk had stuck him with all the cleaning.

Keith rolled up his sleeves with a sigh. It could be worse.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cookies are Best When Shared with Friends](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12811437) by [Mikiri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikiri/pseuds/Mikiri)




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